Manassas - Part One

Scully spends a few days in 1862, meeting many a familiar face.

ORIGINALLY POSTED ON NOVEMBER 21, 2001

Summary: Scully spends a few days in 1862, meeting many a familiar face.

Disclaimer: I do not own Mulder and Scully. Others in the fic, however, are mine, despite their resemblance to CC's characters. Also, any historical inaccuracies are my mistake, and I apologize for them beforehand.

Acknowledgments: A big thank you to Heather Graham Pozzessere and her book 'The Last Cavalier', which was the inspiration for this story. The books 'Great Battles of the Civil War' by John MacDonald and 'The Illustrated History of the Civil War' by William C. Davis also helped to confirm places, names and dates, but most of my knowledge comes from Ken Burns' 'The Civil War', one of the most fascinating and beautiful movies ever filmed.

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MANASSAS

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"I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with Blood." John Brown-December 1859

*****

August 19, 1999

Manassas National Battlefield Park

'It's going to be one of those days,' Agent Dana Scully thought as she sidestepped another puddle, swaying ever so slightly on her heels. Why did Mulder have to be so damn tall, she wondered? She had never felt the need to wear such high heels before she started working with him. And it was her own fault; she knew Mulder didn't think less of her because of her height. Yet, she felt like she needed the extra inch or two around him.

Now she found herself scurrying across the asphalt parking lot in the pouring rain, trying to get into the building on the other side before she got completely soaked. This wasn't easy to accomplish, as the wind was blowing along with the rain, making her umbrella pretty much useless. When she finally reached the doorway, she had to fight the wind just to get it open. Then she stepped inside the Manassas National Battlefield Visitor's Center. The warmth and dry air welcomed her.

Though several people milled about, waiting out the storm, it was very quiet. Scully almost felt as if she had entered a church instead of a tourist attraction. She shook her head, sending droplets of rain water scattering. Folding her umbrella, she walked further into the room, her eyes searching for Mulder. She couldn't find him anywhere in the room. Glancing at her watch, she realized she was about ten minutes early for the scheduled rendezvous. It was still odd that Mulder wasn't here; he was always early for meetings like this. With a sigh, she began to wander.

She had been here before, years earlier, with her family. Playing tourist. Being only a pre-teen at the time, she hadn't had much interest in history and had been sufficiently bored by the whole affair. But her curiosity about the two great Civil War battles that had been fought here almost 150 years ago had increased since then. She found her eyes drawn to the faces of the people in the pictures that were on exhibit. Pictures of real people whose lives had been turned upside down when a war was begun in their 'backyard'. She empathized with them now, having herself experienced her own kind of 'war'.

She stopped in front of a display dedicated to the medical personnel who served during the four-year-long war. She eyed the instruments used by doctors that lined a shelf. She recognized many that were still used today. But some looked downright medieval. The most prominent tool sat near the front of the display. It looked like a small hand saw, and Scully knew that that was basically what it was. It was used for amputating the limbs of fallen soldiers. Amputation had been the most common 'cure' during the war.

A picture caught her eye. It showed a woman stirring something in a large cup sitting between two beds with injured men lying in them. The placard underneath the old photo identified the woman as Ann Bell, a Union nurse. If Scully had lived back then, that was probably what she would have been: a nurse. Women doctors had been extremely rare in 1860's, and those that existed were given very little, if any, respect.

A clap of thunder startled her. The lights dimmed, threatening to go out, then brightened again. Everyone in the museum breathed a sigh of relief. Scully turned to look out the glass doors. The rain was still coming down in sheets.

Suddenly, a man rushed from the restroom in the back of the building, his lip bleeding, holding his arm awkwardly. Scully recognized him as the contact she and Mulder had been planning to meet here. He ran through the crowd, ducking and dodging, heading for the door. Mulder, his hair mussed and his expression grim, followed close behind.

Almost as if he knew right where she would be, he looked at Scully over the people's heads and yelled toward her. "Stop him!"

Scully immediately rushed for the exit, planning on cutting the man off. She didn't bother to consider why the man was running; Mulder had told her to stop him and stop him she would. Questions could be asked later. Unfortunately, the crowd, which had become restless, refused to part for her as it seemed to be doing for the man. He beat her to the door and ran out into the rain. With a groan, Scully followed, once again cursing her heels. She heard Mulder leave the building behind her.

The two agents chased the man across the parking lot, away from the battlefield's main monument. They followed him into a clump of trees. Once the ground grew rough, Scully knew she was doomed. She was still startled when her ankle turned under her. She stumbled. Mulder, who had been close behind her, swerved, stopped and grabbed her elbow, turning concerned eyes on her.

"Go!" she shouted at him, struggling to be heard above the pounding rain. The storm was becoming increasingly violent around them. "Get him!"

With one last assessing look, Mulder turned and continued after the subject. Scully limped over to a tree, placed her palm on the wet bark, and lifted her ankle up and back so she could grasp it with her other hand. It throbbed, but she consoled herself by deciding that it was only twisted, not broken or sprained. She set her foot down, lifted her head, brushed wet hair from her eyes, and looked toward where Mulder had gone.

He and the man were nowhere in sight. Scully turned back toward the Center and began to move slowly through the trees.

Then the world exploded.

She felt it coming; the telltale tingling of electricity. She threw herself on the ground, bringing her arms up to cover her head, oblivious to the mud she was lying in. The tree next to her took the brunt of the bolt, and the air around her turned white. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the light refused to be ignored.

Then it was gone. Scully slowly pulled herself off the ground and looked around. The tree was smoldering, but not on fire. The rain had decreased considerably, and even the lightning and thunder seemed to have petered out. With a deep breath and a silent prayer of thanks, she stood. Carefully, she made her way toward the parking lot. When she walked out of the trees the rain stopped. She looked up and saw...

Nothing.

No parking lot. No Visitor's Center. No cars or people. Just a field full of grass. And not the immaculate lawn that surrounded the battlefield memorial, but a sparse, grayish-green grass that looked well trampled. Scully turned a full 360 degrees, looking carefully at her surroundings. She was sure she had gone the right way, but she recognized nothing.

"Mulder?" Her voice echoed in the still, heavy air. A distant rumble of thunder made her look up at the dark cloud above her. It was moving away, leaving a chill in the air. "Mulder?!" she shouted again, glancing behind her in the trees. Nobody. She decided to head back into the trees. It would be hard on her ankle to continue walking, but she wasn't getting anything done standing here, either. She started to turn, then saw the man.

He was coming from over the small hill off to her right. He stopped suddenly and stared at her. She turned to face him. He seemed to take this as an invitation and began to walk down the slight incline. As he got closer, Scully felt her brow furrow in confusion.

The man was dressed as if he were a 19th Century farmer. That alone wasn't odd; many locals dressed the part for the tourists, and Civil War buffs were constantly roaming around the area in period dress. What shocked her was WHO the person was.

"AD Kersh?"

The black man stopped at her question. His eyes widened, then her swept off his straw hat, exposing his graying hair, and bowed his head. "Ma'am? Can I help you?'

Scully was speechless. She was sure it was Kersh, but Kersh did not speak with a thick Virginian accent! She took a deep breath. "Sir? Are you okay?"

Dark eyes flashed up, then looked down again. "Ma'am?"

Scully brought her hand up to her head. 'I know I hurt my ankle,' she thought to herself. 'I didn't hit my head, as well. Did I?'

'Kersh' spoke again. "Ma'am? Are you lost?"

She realized how hard he was trying to avoid looking at her. And not just her eyes, but her legs as well. Suddenly, her simple, sedate skirt seemed miles too short. "The storm..."

"Yes. It was a bad storm." He looked up again. "Are you hurt?"

Scully nodded. "My ankle," she whispered.

"Come with me, Ma'am. Missus Anderson's farm is just over yonder." He nodded toward the hill behind him. "She'll fix you up right."

"Mrs. Anderson?"

"Yes'm."

Scully sighed. "Who are you?"

Before he could answer, another figure appeared on the hill. A small, dark haired woman in a long gray dress began to make her way toward them.

"Alfred?" Kersh turned to face the woman. "Who is this?"

Scully felt her heart stop for just a moment. She knew that voice! And sure enough, as the woman drew closer, Scully recognized her face as well. She gasped.

"Mom?!"

The woman's eyes widened in consternation, and they looked her up and down, eyeing Scully's appearance with concern and slight disapproval. "Miss? Are you well?" She glanced at Kersh. "Is she hurt?"

"She said something about her ankle, Missus. But I think she mighta hurt her head, too."

Margaret Scully (or was it her?) eyed Scully again. "Miss, why don't you come with me to the house. We'll get you looked after properly." Her accent wasn't as strong as Kersh's, but it was Virginian through and through.

Scully started shaking her head slowly. "What is going on here?" she demanded. "Am I dreaming? What am I saying? I HAVE to be dreaming! There is no way the two of you even know each other." She took a step back from her two 'nightmare' creations, but she forgot about her ankle. Both 'Alfred' and 'Mrs. Anderson' grabbed her as she started to fall.

"Miss! I think you musta hurt yourself somthin' terrible. Please, come with us." Kersh's voice was kind, worried.

"I don't...." Scully started. She must be going into shock, she thought; her body was trembling horribly. "I can't..." An unbelievable idea formed in her head. Breathing hard, she asked the two people in front of her, "What's the date?"

"The date?" Maggie asked, giving Kersh an odd look. "It is August 19th, I believe."

Scully nodded. That much she knew. She took another deep breath. "What year?"

Another look passed between her two 'rescuers'. "Eighteen Sixty-two."

Scully couldn't help it; she fainted.

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"We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies...The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature." Abraham Lincoln-February 1861

*****

August 19, 1999

Manassas National Battlefield Park

"This has to be one of the worst days of my life!"

Mulder turned his glare on Nikky Harper, silently repeating the man's words in his head. Now was not the time to start sympathizing with the crook. Mulder was wet, cold and tired. His jaw hurt from when Nikky had punched him, and his right hand hurt from when he had thoughtlessly retaliated with a punch of his own. At least the rain was slowing down somewhat. Now, his only intent was to get this man in a secure jail cell, go home, take a hot shower, and settle in front of the TV for the night. Questioning Nikky about his involvement with the Russian Mafia could wait.

He had been planning on meeting both his partner and Harper at the Visitor's Center that afternoon with the intent to get Nikky's information on a supposed shipment of 'weapons' that originated from Area 51. Instead, he had accidentally run into the man in the restroom, where the idiot had proceeded to threaten him. He wanted more perks than your average 'snitch'; he had demanded money, lots of it. His attitude had rubbed Mulder so wrong, that Mulder had decided to just arrest the man. Harper had hit him in response. Mulder had hit him back, then thrown him up against the wall. The blinking lights had distracted him, and Harper had pulled away.

Following him out of the bathroom, Mulder hadn't been at all surprised to see Scully on the other side of the room, closer to the door than he was. At his yell, she had immediately raced to intercept Harper. The crowd had obviously been more afraid of the greasy looking man than the small redhead, because they parted for him and not her. Harper raced into the rain and both Mulder and Scully followed.

Due to his long legs, Mulder was quite a bit faster than his partner, especially when she was in heels (though he knew he would never in a million years be able to run as well in shoes like that!). Yet, he hadn't gained on her much by the time they reached the trees. Then she had stumbled. Her gasp of pain startled him; she was usually so stoic. He swerved to avoid tripping over her, then grasped her arm as he stopped beside her. Her brilliant blue eyes had flashed at him through the wet hair that had fallen over them. "Go!" she had yelled. "Get him!" Mulder had let his eyes roam over her one last time, to make sure she wasn't hurt too badly. But she was upright and her glare insisted he go on. He knew without a doubt that if he asked how she was, she'd simply say "I'm fine." To avoid hearing those hated words, he

turned and went after Harper.

He hadn't been all that hard to catch. Mulder had tackled him not 200 yards from where he had left Scully. Now, with Nikky handcuffed, Mulder passed the tree he was sure Scully had been near the last time he had seen her. It was obvious something had happened to it. It was smoldering, and it was sporting a dark, jagged gash along most of its length. Struck by lightning, Mulder assumed. He hoped Scully hadn't been near it when it happened.

People were milling outside the Visitor's Center when he arrived with his prisoner, and a police car sat in the fire lane in front of the building, its lights flashing. A Sheriff's deputy and a Park Ranger met him, questions in their eyes. Mulder answered as much as he could, his eyes occasionally drifting around the parking lot, looking for one person in particular. When the deputy was through and had taken Nikky into custody, Mulder entered the Center. He looked everywhere, even the women's bathroom, getting a nasty look from a matronly old lady in the process. Nothing. He finally started asking around, but nobody had seen who he was looking for.

He went back into the parking lot, which was slowly emptying out. The park closed in less than an hour. Her car sat at the far end looking lonely. Mulder felt panic start to set in. He pulled out his cell phone, pressed the appropriate buttons, and stood in the chill early evening air. "We're sorry, but the cellular customer you are trying to reach is not within range of a cellular tower. Please try....." Mulder slapped the phone shut, his heart pounding erratically. 'Calm down,' he told himself. 'She can take care of herself. Stop worrying.' He decided to just wait a while longer, praying she would turn up soon.

An hour later, the deputy was back with more men and the search for Special Agent Dana Scully had begun.

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"You are green, it is true; but they are green, also; you are all green alike." A. Lincoln-July 1861

*****

August 20, 1862?

Near Manassas Junction, Virginia

When Scully woke, it was to an aching head, a throbbing ankle, and a wish that she could go right back to sleep. She opened her eyes, nervously looking around the room. She remembered what had been going on before shock had taken over. Her 'mother' had just told her she was in 1862. Sitting up slowly in the soft feather bed, Scully almost believed it. The room was small, with wood floors and furnishings. Furnishings that looked like brand new antiques. Lovely blue gingham curtains fluttered in the breeze coming in the window off to her left. The breeze was warm and the sun was shining; any remnants of the storm had long since blown away. It was a brand-new morning. In 1862.

'Oh, come on, Dana,' Scully thought to herself. 'They were teasing you. They probably love to tease tourists.' She purposefully forgot that 'they' looked just like her mother and AD Kersh. Ignoring her aches and pains, Scully slid out of the huge bed. She was wearing a long cotton gown, buttoned up to her chin. Long sleeved and barely brushing the floor, the nightgown swallowed her up. Lifting the skirt slightly, she walked to the window, and moved aside the curtain to look out.

Two men were working on a wagon in front of a barn. A couple of harnessed work horses stood hipshot, dozing in the morning sun next to the barn. Scully felt her eyes search the entire yard, but she saw no signs of civilization. No power lines, no cars, no paved roads. She looked back at the men below. Both were dressed in worn work clothes. One was the man Scully thought looked like Kersh. Alfred. The other was also a black man, but he was much bigger than Alfred. He, too, looked familiar. Scully squinted at him.

No. It couldn't be.

The door behind her opened and she swung around. Maggie/Mrs. Anderson walked in, carrying a tray of food. She smiled when she saw Scully. "Ah, you're awake. I was starting to get a little worried, but I guess you just needed the sleep." She set the tray down on the dresser. "I brought you something to eat, but if you like, I can find something clean for you to wear and you can come down to the kitchen to eat."

Clothing would be nice. "Yes. Thank you."

Mrs. Anderson went over to the wardrobe standing in the corner of the room and opened it. "I think my daughter's clothing will fit you, though she is a bit taller than you. If not, I can loan you something of mine. You and I are about the same size." She pulled out a gray dress. Simple, no frills, boring. Long sleeves, long skirt. A perfect mid-1800's farm girl dress. Draping the dress on the bed, Mrs. Anderson proceeded to the dresser, and began pulling

out several white things Scully assumed were under-clothes.

"Mrs. Anderson?" Scully started.

"Oh, please. Call me Maddie."

"Maddie. I really can't thank you enough for helping me. You know nothing about me, yet you took me in." Maddie had stopped to look at her. "I know this may sound strange, but I'm a little lost. I don't know how I got here or how to get home."

"Where is home?"

"D.C."

Maddie looked confused for a moment. "You mean Washington?"

Scully nodded.

Maddie sighed. "Well, you are only about 25 miles from there, but I'm afraid it will be hard to get back. The lines around the capital are tight as can be. I suppose we could find an officer around who can escort you in, but it will be hard to prove to him you aren't a spy. Spies are everywhere, I understand."

Scully stared at her. Maddie was talking about the war, she realized. And she sounded so casual about it. Of course, this close to the fighting, she was used to dealing with it every day. Scully shook her head again. How could she possibly believe this was happening?

Another knock sounded on the door. "Miz Anderson? Alfred and I are going over to Bixby's to pick up that flour you wanted." The voice was frighteningly familiar. It was coming from the man she had seen outside the window. The man Mulder had simply called X.

"All right, Jonah. Don't take too long."

"No, Ma'am." They could hear his footsteps as he descended the stairs and left the house.

Scully was struck with an idea. "Maddie, are Alfred and Jonah your slaves?"

Maddie looked at her, her eyes quietly assessing. "No. Both Alfred and Jonah are free men. They worked for my husband and since his death, they work for me." She tilted her head. "You are a Union sympathizer, aren't you?" She shrugged. "Not that it matters to me. I try to keep my nose out of politics. And God knows there are enough mixed loyalties around here." Her eyes had become pools full of sadness.

"How did your husband die?" Scully asked softly.

"His heart gave out, five years ago, while he was working the fields." She smiled softly. "In a way, I'm glad. He would have hated this country and what it is doing to his sons." When Maddie noticed Scully's curious look, she explained. "Our oldest son, Todd, is a Lieutenant in the Navy. The Confederate Navy. Our younger son, Richard, is a Union officer."

'Brother Against Brother.' Scully had heard the phrase. She had always believed it meant countryman against countryman. Obviously, it was a literal term. She was sure Maddie wasn't the only mother of children with divided loyalties. Especially in the areas of Northern Virginia, Maryland and Kentucky. West Virginia had still been part of Virginia in 1862, though not for much longer. It would eventually secede from the rest of the state and rejoin the Union.

Scully walked over to the dress and fingered the material. "Your daughter?"

Maddie smiled. "Like me, Melanie refuses to choose sides. But she has, in a way, given her loyalties to the Confederacy. She works as a nurse." Her smile became sad. "I haven't seen her or Todd in months. And Rich.... I haven't seen him in over a year. I don't even know if he's alive or dead." She looked up. "I'll let you get changed. Just come downstairs when you're ready." With that, she turned and left the room.

Scully turned and sat heavily on the bed. It was obvious she wasn't being teased by some history-loving locals, which left only two explanations for her current predicament. One, the lightning strike had knocked her out and she was lying in a hospital somewhere dreaming an incredibly strange, realistic dream. Or two, she was really in 1862. She knew which one she wanted to believe, but she was also afraid that what she wanted to believe and what was real weren't one and the same.

*****

"It was the first Field of Glory I had seen in the May of life, and the first time that Glory sickened me with its repulsive aspect, and made me suspect it was all a glittering lie...." Henry Morton Stanley-April 1862

*****

August 20, 1862

Anderson Farm

Near Manassas Junction, Virginia

It was mid-morning when Scully finally made it to the kitchen. She felt strange in the long dress, mostly due to the plentiful under-clothes. Camisole, knickers of some sort that came to just below the knee, two petticoats, and stockings that came up to meet the knickers, tied with ribbon-like garters just above the knee. The shoes reminded her of lace-up Western boots, but narrower with higher heels.

Maddie gave her another smile when Scully entered the kitchen, but it seemed strained. There was worry in her eyes, and though Scully was sure this woman had plenty to worry about, she was pretty sure this particular problem was because of her. The older woman began to talk about nothing in particular, and her nervous energy began to transfer to Scully, who stood to help her clean up the morning dishes. There was a sink, but no running water. Maddie used what water was left in a large porcelain pitcher to clean the dishes, and Scully dried them with a rough dish towel.

Maddie suddenly turned to face her. "I don't even know your name."

"Dana," Scully immediately responded. "Dana...Hale." She could claim to be the widow of George if anyone asked. A widow would be given more respect than an unmarried thirty-something in this day in age. She looked at her left hand, then at Maddie's. The older woman wasn't wearing a ring. Scully knew that wearing a wedding ring hadn't been that common a practice in the 1860's. Especially for farm women, who used their hands for hard labor and had no desire to worry about jewelry.

Maddie sighed. "Dana. That's a lovely name." She paused, as if unsure how to continue. "Where are you from originally, Dana? Your clothing...it was..."

Scully actually blushed. Yes indeed, if Maddie had undressed her last night, she would have been quite shocked by her under-clothes. While modest and simple in her world, the cotton and lace bra and panties would be scandalous now. "I...I am originally from..." What exactly did her generic accent sound like? "I'm from Minnesota originally, but I just returned from France."

"France?" A look of curiosity crossed her face. "How interesting." Scully could only guess what Maddie was thinking about the country across the sea. 'Sorry, France,' Scully thought. 'Don't mean to bad-mouth you.'

The sound of horses interrupted any more conversation, and both women moved to the small window next to the front door. Maddie gave Scully a glance. "Soldiers. They've moved into the area recently. I'm not sure I'm happy about it." She moved to the door. "We've already had more than our share of blood spilled here; we certainly don't need more."

She exited the house, and Scully followed, understandably curious and unusually excited. She stepped out on the porch behind Maddie, wondering who she would recognize this time. She wasn't disappointed. Jeffrey Spender, looking amazingly young and boyish, despite his immaculate blue uniform, sat astride a tall bay horse. Three other men rode with him.

"Lieutenant Wade, ladies." He doffed his hat. "Which one of you is Madeline Anderson?"

Maddie moved forward a bit. "I am Mrs. Anderson. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"The General wanted me to invite you to a social tomorrow evening in Centreville, at General Parker's house. He has heard about your efforts for the Country, and wishes to thank you in person."

Scully looked at Maddie questioningly. Maddie, her expression unchanged, replied, "What 'efforts'?"

Spender/Wade smirked. "We are aware of your activities, Mrs. Anderson." He turned to look up the drive, where Alfred and Jonah were returning from their visit to the neighbors in the old wagon they had been working on earlier. He turned back to the women. "You and your boys have a reputation around here."

Maddie stood silent.

Wade looked at Scully. "Your friend is invited, as well. I am sure the General will approve. The more the merrier." He paused. "Lt. Richard Anderson may be there. If he and his men arrive from the Richmond lines in time."

Maddie's eyes had widened in excitement upon hearing this news. "Of course we will attend, Lieutenant. Thank the General for the invitation."

"Of course." Wade nodded, then spun his horse and cantered away, his men following.

"I'm sorry for speaking for you, Miss Hale," Maddie said to Scully. "But I would greatly appreciate it if you would come." She smiled. "My son may be there!"

Scully smiled softly back. "I think I'd like that. But I don't have anything to wear." Scully assumed a social meant a party of some sort.

"We'll find something. In fact, I think I know what would look wonderful on you."

As Scully followed Maddie back into the house, the thought passed through her head that she should really be trying to find a way back home. But a part of her was still convinced this was all a dream, and she wanted to enjoy the adventure. Too bad Mulder isn't here, she thought. He would be loving this!

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"Well, General, we've had the Devil's own day." William Tecumseh Sherman

"Yes. Lick 'em tomorrow, though." U.S.Grant-April 1862

*****

August 20, 1999

Manassas National Battlefield Park

Mulder was not enjoying any of this. It had been slightly over 24 hours since Scully's disappearance, and there was absolutely no trace of her, dead or alive. Mulder hadn't had any sleep. He had helped the local officers in the search last night. Dogs had been brought in this morning, but they picked up no scent. At Skinner's demand, Mulder had returned home around lunch to eat and change into more comfortable clothes. He had been back within an hour to continue, but still there was nothing. It was like she had dropped off the

face of the earth. He looked upward at the first stars beginning to glitter in the darkening sky. He felt a shiver run up his back. 'No,' he thought. 'Not again.'

He stood from his seat on the porch of the Center and walked towards the stand of trees where he had last seen her. He had searched the area around the trees dozens of times already, but he was positive that if he was to find any clue of her whereabouts, it would be there. Several of the officers watched him go with pity in their eyes. They were all tired and frustrated as well, but it was obvious to everyone involved how much the FBI agent cared for his missing partner. Many of them were convinced she had been kidnapped, and that her body would be found nearby sometime in the future. But nobody was going to say that to Agent Mulder.

Mulder had to use his flashlight to see when he entered the trees. He tried to retrace every step he had taken yesterday in the chase. Tried to picture exactly where it had been that Scully had stumbled. Where he had stopped to help her. Again, he found himself near that tree. He directed the light up the length of the trunk, eyeing the gash once more. If she had been here when the tree had been struck, if she had been struck as well, her body would be here. It wouldn't have disappeared. He flashed the light along the ground. It took his conscious mind a while to understand that he was unconsciously looking for her cross. That tiny object that had been his connection to Scully more than once when she was gone. But there was nothing.

With a groan, he sank down on the ground, his back to the tree. He leaned his head back and once again looked at the stars. He knew what the deputies and other agents thought. That Scully had been taken and killed by an unknown assailant. But Mulder knew she wasn't dead. He would feel it if she died. He laughed at himself for the silly thought. But it was true, he realized. Half of him would be dead if she was, and yet he was here, alive. He closed his eyes and felt regret pour through him. Regret for so many things. Regret for not giving Scully more attention, more respect. Regret for not telling her he loved her. Regret for not being worthy of her love. Oh, yes. He knew she loved him, though she had never said the words. Why else would she have stayed a willing part of his miserable existence for so long?

'Oh, quit moping, Mulder.' Her voice was as clear as a bell in his ear. His eyes flew open, but he knew he was alone. He sighed. She would indeed be angry with him for sitting here wallowing in self-pity.

But it was a hell of a lot easier than thinking about what might be happening to her.

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"If McClellan is not using the army, I should like to borrow it for a while." A. Lincoln-April 1862

*****

August 21, 1862

Anderson Farm

Near Manassas Junction, Virginia

Scully was having the time of her life.

She didn't really care if she was dreaming or not, the details of the world around her fascinated her to no end. She spent the rest of the day yesterday helping Maddie with her various chores, which included cleaning house, helping care for the few animals left on the farm, and checking the crops of tobacco and corn. It was getting close to harvest, but Maddie was worried they wouldn't get to keep what little they planted anyway. Both armies pretty much took what they wanted whenever they came through.

Maddie also told how Major General John Pope, who was in charge of the Union troops in the area, had made more than a few enemies, even among the Unionists. He had established Martial Law in the area, not trusting ANY Virginian. It was a surprise to Maddie that he had even allowed the party in Centreville to take place. Obviously, 'the General' had more power.

When Maddie mentioned the General, Scully couldn't help wracking her brain, trying to think of who this General might be. It couldn't be the famous Grant; he was still out west fighting at this point in time. Other famous Generals names came to mind, but she finally decided to just ask.

"Who is this General you talk about?"

Maddie got a concerned look on her face. "General Wade."

Spender's face came to mind. "Is he related to the Lieutenant of the same name?"

Maddie nodded. "His father. He wields a lot of power in this area. Even Pope is afraid of him."

Scully also struck up conversations with Maddie's two workers. Alfred she found easy to talk to, amazingly enough. But Jonah was intimidating, and always seemed to be watching her with distrust. Scully tried not to worry about it too much.

This afternoon, Maddie was helping her to change into a dress much different than what she had worn before. It was made of silk, and Scully knew it must have cost a fortune, especially in this era. It was an incredible blue color, nearly matching Scully's eyes. Low cut, off the shoulder, with long, tight sleeves, it looked far too small for Scully. When she pointed this out to Maddie, the older woman gave her an odd look, then proceeded to pull out what Scully recognized as a corset.

Something in her rebelled. Women had been forced to wear those torture devices for hundreds, even thousands of years, and Scully couldn't stand the thought of wearing one. But she also knew that she would not fit into that gorgeous gown without it. Feeling like Scarlet O'Hara, Scully had to grind her teeth together as Maddie pulled on the strings that tightened the whale-bone binding around her waist, nearly cutting off her breathing. She wore the chemise and knickers underneath, but they were no protection at all from the

biting and pinching the device caused. The corset was followed by three petticoats and one very thick, almost hoop skirt-like starched petticoat on top of them. Then Maddie lowered the gown over her head. It fit Scully's now tiny waist to perfection. With a grimace, she turned to look at herself in the rough mirror.

"Oh, my God!"

Despite her use of the Lord's name in vain, Maddie smiled at Scully's reaction. Scully was staring. At herself. She knew the petticoats would make the skirt incredibly full, and she knew the corset would shrink her waist. But what she hadn't known was how the corset would 'boost' her, so to speak. Scully looked at her chest in astonishment. She, who had always been pretty much convinced her body was nothing special, just ordinary, had cleavage! And a lot of it!

"Wow!" she whispered.

Maddie simply nodded. She had gotten dressed in a much more sedate silk gown already, and had done her hair in a simple knot. But she had dressed up Scully's hair, which was much shorter than most women in this era wore theirs, in an elegant twist. Now, as she slowly swayed in front of the mirror, smiling at the lovely swishing noises the silk made, Scully forgot all about shoes that pinched and not being able to breathe. She was ready to party!

The last thought she had before she and Maddie got in the old, but functional, carriage for the two-hour ride to Centreville, was that she wished Mulder could see her in this get-up. She wondered what he would say.

************************************************************

"If I could save the Union without freeing any slave, I would do it; and if I could save it by freeing all the slaves, I would do it; and if I could do it by freeing some and leaving others alone, I would also do that." A. Lincoln-August 1862

*****

August 21, 1862

General Parker's Residence

Centreville, Virginia

Maddie explained to Scully on the rough road to Centreville that General Parker was a good friend of fellow Virginian Robert E. Lee, but unlike Lee, he had chosen to stay with the Union. Many Virginian's called him a traitor because of this decision, and the Confederates had, when given the chance, looted and nearly burned the General's house last year. But now, with the Federals in control of the area once more, the house had been fixed up and was being used as Headquarters' for Wade and his men. Parker himself had retired from fighting, but still commanded a great amount of respect from both Northern and Southern troops. He was a wonderful man, Maddie said. Unlike Pope and Wade, whom Maddie seemed fearful of.

Scully had to admit to being suspicious about Maddie's real reason for wanting her at this party. Scully was also still a bit confused about why she wanted to go. She should really try to figure out how she had gotten here in the first place. If she didn't wake up first.

The sun was just beginning to set when they arrived at the Parker House. It was a lovely, two-story brick building with roses surrounding it in abundance. A dignified looking black man helped them from the carriage, which Jonah had driven, and the two of them walked up the porch steps and entered the house. Scully, who hadn't stopped looking for, and had not found, anything 20th Century, stood astounded. What she saw was straight out of 'Gone With The Wind'!

The men in the room outnumbered the women by at least five to one, but the women made up for their lack of numbers by standing out. Gowns of every color and fabric decorated the room. And Scully was instantly aware her cleavage wasn't the only one being displayed. The men were all in uniform. All in blue. Gold buttons flashed and silver dress-swords rattled. Several male eyes turned her way, and she couldn't help but blush. With her red hair and blue dress, she must stand out.

Almost immediately, an older man approached them. Scully felt her heart speed up as she recognized him, even with the broad mustache he wore. Deep Throat.

"Ladies! Welcome! Mrs. Anderson, I am honored that you could join us." He sent a glance Scully's way. "And I heard you were bringing a guest."

"Yes," Maddie answered. "This is Dana Hale, a friend of my daughter's." She lied with ease, Scully saw.

Deep Throat took her hand in his, bowed over it, and touched his lips to its back lightly. "Miss Hale. General Parker. Welcome to my home."

"Thank you," Scully responded with as much dignity as she could muster. "And it is Mrs. Hale. My husband passed away several years ago."

"And you never remarried? I lovely woman such as yourself?"

Scully shook her head. "No. I could never replace him in my heart." Now why had Mulder's face popped into her head just then?

"I understand completely. If my Doreen passes before me, I know I'd never look at another woman." He bent his elbow in an age-old gesture the Scully understood right away. She grasped his elbow lightly with her hand. "Come, let me introduce you."

He escorted her to a group of officers on the other side of the room. She recognized Spender/Wade, who gave her an appreciative glance up and down. Rather blatant, Scully thought, for an 1860's man. The tall man next to Wade turned when he heard them approach, and Scully felt a sudden desire to reverse her direction and go the other way. It was him. The General. The man who seemed to have more power than Pope, who had been put in charge of the Union forces by the President himself. Cancer Man.

"General Wade. I'd like to introduce you to Mrs. Anderson's guest. This is Mrs. Hale, from...?"

"Minnesota. Although I've been living in Washington for several years."

"Mrs. Hale." Wade nodded his head in acknowledgment. He was almost unrecognizable, sporting, as he did, a mustache and sideburns. It was the most common style among mature men, Scully knew. And instead of a cigarette, he carried a cigar. But he was still frightening. "Mr. Hale?"

"Dead." Her answer was sharp. Too sharp. Wade's eyes narrowed.

"The war?"

"No. He died several years ago."

"I'm sorry if I brought up any bad memories, Mrs. Hale. But I am sure many men here tonight will be asking about you, and I would like to give them an answer."

"Oh, admit it, Cleve. You're just nosy!" The speaker was another tall man, but he wasn't in uniform and he spoke with a British accent. Scully took in a deep breath. Was she destined to meet everyone from her past here?

The man came up to her, kissing her hand as Parker had done. "Patrick Louder, at your service, Madame. I am a journalist for the London Times, but I have also known this old man," he nodded toward Wade, "for far too long. Long enough to know when he is playing bloodhound."

"Bloodhound?" Scully asked.

"Sniffing out spies, Mrs. Hale," Wade's son answered. "But I hardly think a lady from Minnesota would be spying for the Rebs." He and the other men around him laughed.

Scully smiled politely and said, "No. Of course not."

"And, of course," Wade Sr. continued, "Mrs. Anderson would not treat her so kindly if she approved of the slave issue."

A flurry of activity across the room attracted the attention of the small group Scully stood with. She turned to see Maddie being swung around happily by a tall, redheaded soldier. When the man pulled away, Scully smiled. Charlie.

"Richard Anderson, I presume?" She spoke to no one in particular, but the General answered her.

"Yes. He and his men were marched up here to join Pope's troops."

Scully looked around the room, pretending to look for Pope. She'd never met a historical figure before. "He's not here, Mrs. Hale. He is still licking his wounds from his defeat at Cedar Mountain two weeks ago."

Scully nodded and started to turn back toward the group when a man caught her eye. She couldn't help but feel her heart speed up.

Like all the others, he was in blue. Another General. He also displayed facial hair, but only a modest mustache, and Scully had to admit his broad shoulders filled out the blue uniform he was wearing quite splendidly. She had always had a thing for men in uniform. She saw him glance her way, and she gave him a small smile, realizing she probably shouldn't; it wasn't something a decent lady should do. But if there was anybody Scully felt she could trust enough to help her out of this unbelievable situation, it was him. There was only one other man she trusted more. The soldier began to walk her way, and Scully tensed.

"General Rollins," Wade said to the man, and Scully was sure she heard distaste in the man's voice. Hmmm. So Skinner ticked him off in this time, too.

"Sir," Skinner/Rollins said, but his brown eyes never left Scully. "Ma'am." He took her hand, kissing it as the others had, only he seemed to linger over it a bit longer than the others. "General William Rollins."

Scully smiled slightly. Was he flirting with her?! "General."

Before any more words could be said, a young private rushed into the room, heading straight for Wade. "Sir! I just received this." The boy (he was far too young to be considered a man) handed a small sheet of paper to Wade.

Wade read the message. Then he looked at the men surrounding him. "Confederate cavalry are in the area tonight. Wrecking havoc, as usual. I think it's best we disperse, gentlemen."

David Wade asked his father nervously, "Is it Stanton, do you think?"

Wade's eyes glittered in the light from the many gas lamps. "I do hope so. I really do."

Scully suddenly felt an uncontrollable fear for this Stanton, because whatever Wade had in mind for him, it wasn't good.

*****

"Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction." 13th Amendment-Ratified December 1865

*****

August 21, 1862

Virginia Countryside Between Centreville and the Anderson Farm

Traveling at night in 1862 was no easy feat. There were no street lamps to guide the way, and there were no headlights from other cars. In fact, the only light Scully could see came from the two lanterns attached to the sides of the carriage. And the stars. Wow, were there a lot of stars!

The trip back to the farm was taking much longer than the one to Centreville, as the horses had to move slower because of the dark. General Parker had invited both Scully and Maddie to stay at his house for the night, but Maddie was insistent they go home. Parker agreed, but only if they allowed an escort. Maddie's son, Rich, had only a three-day pass and had to return to his men further south, so Parker asked Rollins to accompany them home. He would stay the night at the Anderson farm, then continue on to Pope's camp the next morning. The General rode his horse quietly next to the carriage, occasionally putting in a word here and there as Maddie kept up her usual chatter. Scully also found his eyes on her more than once. Shadowed as it was in the dim light from the lanterns, she couldn't read his expression.

Suddenly, the night noises around them became silent. Maddie quieted, obviously feeling, as Scully did, that something was not right. A loud, high-pitched howl emanated from the trees off to their right, and another one echoed it from the left. Soon, the carriage seemed surrounded by the eerie noise. Rollins drew his pistol, his horse dancing nervously underneath him, and Jonah pulled the carriage horses to a stop and began looking around with a fearful expression. Scully realized she was listening to the infamous Rebel

Yell.

A crash sounded off to the left, and Rollins swung his horse back and around to shoot into the darkness. Almost immediately, a rifle shot followed from the other side. Rollins grunted in pain, dropping his pistol and grabbing his right shoulder with his left hand. The movement spooked his horse, and the gelding reared up, lost his balance, and stumbled, half falling onto his side. He didn't go all the way down, but it was enough to dislodge his rider, who tumbled to the ground. The horse rose and galloped off.

Scully jumped from the carriage and rushed to Rollins' side. He was trying to sit up, still holding his shoulder. Scully kneeled beside him, moved his hand away from the wound, and placed her own hands on it; it was bleeding profusely. Scully stared at the blood seeping past her fingers. 'My God,' she thought. 'This is no dream!' The yelling had stopped, both the Rebel soldiers' and Maddie and Jonah's, who had been hollering at Scully to stay in the carriage. For a while, all she could hear was the beating of her own heart and the rush of blood in her ears.

The sound of a horse behind her caused her to tense up. Rollins looked up and past her to whoever was there, fear and anger mixing with the pain in his eyes. The horse stopped almost directly behind Scully.

"Well, General. Looks like your reflexes aren't what they used to be," a deep voice drawled from behind her. Despite the rich Virginian accent, Scully recognized it almost immediately. She knew that voice as well as her own. "But, of course," it continued, "I'd probably be a little slow to respond, too, if I had this lovely vision to distract me."

Scully slowly turned her head and looked up. He sat his horse like he had been born in the saddle, with his arms casually crossed over the pommel, and he was slouching, as if he had just woken up from a nap. But despite his relaxed appearance, Scully noted a tenseness that told her he was ready for anything. The rifle that lay across his lap was within easy reach, as was the pistol at his side. He wore a threadbare uniform, a dirty gray in color, with yellow piping, and his hair was long, his face unshaven. A battered gray ostrich plume decorated his hat. But his eyes, which were almost glowing in the lamplight, were the same.

Mulder.

She felt the urge to laugh, to jump up and tell him to get off the horse before it moved and he fell off. To tell him that she had had enough of this game and wanted to go home. The blood seeping through her fingers as she held Rollins' shoulder was far too real for a dream, so this must be some big practical joke. Everyone in her life must be in on it. She felt tears well up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. What the hell was she going to do now?

"You have something I want, Rollins," the horseman said.

Rollins shook his head. "I have nothing. I'm simply escorting these women back to their home. Tomorrow, I'm heading back to my command. That is all."

'Mulder' looked at Maddie. "Mrs. Anderson. Lovely evening for a party, isn't it?"

Maddie nodded, her expression blank. "Colonel. Yes, it is a lovely evening."

"Helped any slaves to Canada lately?" he continued. He glanced at Jonah, who sent him a glare full of venom.

Scully looked at Maddie, who had lowered her eyes at the question. So that was her secret. She helped runaway slaves. Not a very safe job to have, especially in a slave state. She must be part of the legendary Underground Railroad, and that was why Wade had wanted to thank her. The more trouble the slaves caused in the south, the more the south was weakened. For months now, the Confederacy had been demanding that they were NOT fighting for slavery, but for state’s rights. The slaves, and Scully, knew better. This war would end up being all about slavery.

Scully turned to look at Rollins. Even in the dim light, she could tell he was getting pale. She turned to look up at 'Mulder'. "Look, Colonel. This man needs medical attention. Could we have this little 'pow wow' some other time?"

His eyes met hers. "Pow wow? What do you know of pow wows?"

Oops. "I'm from Minnesota."

He nodded, and Scully breathed in a sigh of relief. Minnesota was still part of the Frontier, and Sioux Indians still resided there.

"Miss, I'd like it a great deal if you would move away from the General and step back over to your carriage. Please." His voice was pleasant sounding enough, but she detected the hint of steel underneath.

She looked at Rollins, who nodded to her. He placed his hand on his shoulder again, which was bleeding much less now, and Scully stood. She glanced off behind Rollins and spotted the pistol, which he had dropped in his fall. It was too far to try to reach it. And even if she did, what then? She wasn't about to shoot Mulder...again. She walked over to stand beside the carriage, noticing as she did the shapes of other horses and riders standing just outside the circle of light the lanterns produced.

'Mulder' dismounted, then strode over to Rollins, his stride loose-limbed and lazy. He extended his arm down toward the wounded man. "The papers, Rollins. Then I'll let you and the ladies go."

"What papers?" Rollins' voice was getting weak.

'Mulder' reached down, grabbed Rollins' right arm, and jerked him forward, causing the General to wince in pain. "I'll have those papers now, General." His voice had become dark, as it only did when he was very angry. Scully had rarely heard it that way. She felt a shiver run up her back.

Rollins continued to glare at the soldier for a while longer, then he reached into his uniform jacket with his good arm and pulled out a leather packet. 'Mulder' took it from him and stepped back a bit. He opened the packet and pulled out several papers. Slowly, he walked toward the carriage, toward the light it provided. Toward Scully.

He stopped next to the lantern, reading intently. A small smile became visible, even through his beard. Scully felt her gaze fix on his lower lip, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. He was close enough for her to feel his body heat. She breathed in. He smelled of horses, leather, fresh air, and a hint of tobacco. Nothing familiar. But underneath it all, she smelled Mulder, and that scent was more than familiar. She felt his gaze on her and looked up. He was staring at her in a way Mulder rarely did. Slowly, his eyes moved downward, raking her body from head to toe. She shivered. He saw it. His smile widened. Slowly, he backed away.

Without a word, he moved back to his horse and mounted. He tucked the papers in his own jacket and looked back down at Rollins. "General. It was a pleasure seeing you again." He looked at the carriage. "Jonah. Mrs. Anderson." He touched the brim of his hat. He made eye contact with Scully again. "Ma'am. I surely do hope we meet again."

Scully stayed silent, but her eyes never left his.

As he started to turn his horse, Rollins called out to him. "Stanton!"

Scully felt herself start in surprise. This was Stanton?

He had turned back to look at Rollins. The General was trying to stand. "Wade knows you're here."

Scully saw how Stanton's body stiffened at that name, and she almost felt the hatred emanate from him. He nodded stiffly at Rollins, then spurred his horse into a gallop. Three other men set off after him. Scully felt herself sag against the carriage. She looked at Maddie, who had also drooped in relief, then she set about helping Jonah get Rollins into the carriage.

Within the hour, they were back at the Anderson farm. Scully had cleaned and wrapped Rollins' shoulder and gotten herself ready for bed. But it was a long time before she was able to sleep.

************************************************************

"May God have mercy on General Lee, for I will have none."

Joe Hooker-Spring 1863

*****

August 25, 1999

Manassas National Battlefield Park

One week.

It had been a full week since Scully's disappearance. And still nothing. The Bureau hadn't given up; they still had agents working on the case full time. Even Nikky Harper had been questioned by more than one agent in the hopes that he had an accomplice who knew where Scully was. Mulder hadn't been allowed to talk to him. Skinner feared he would become too aggressive in his questioning. Mulder didn't argue; he would like nothing more than to pound Nikky's nose in. Even if he wasn't quite convinced the man had anything to do with Scully.

He hadn't worked on anything else since the incident at the Battlefield. It was like her abduction several years earlier, only worse. He had cared for Scully then, had begun to realize at the time that he loved her, but it was more than that now. He was still convinced she was still alive, but that was no guarantee that she wasn't suffering or scared, or that he would ever see her again. He had taken to sitting in the dark at home, meditating, every night. Hoping something would happen that would tell him where she was. Hoping their connection was that strong. But other than some strange dreams, he had felt nothing.

The dreams were his only hope, but they were vague, unclear. He always awoke feeling terrified and exhilarated at the same time, with the remnants of explosions, strange yelling and the smell of gunpowder in his mind.

He had the Gunmen working on their own investigation. He hadn't had to ask, as they had been more than willing. All three of them had come to care for Scully in their own way. But they, too, had come up with nothing.

Mulder had visited the Battlefield every day. The Park Rangers knew him by name and watched him with sad eyes. Mulder hated it, but he knew he must be a pathetic sight. His searches always brought him to the tree.

Today it was hot out, and Mulder had already ditched his jacket and tie, leaving them in the car. He stood in the shade of the trees with his shirt sleeves rolled up gazing around at nothing. Why did he keep coming here? It was almost as if he was 'called' here, but he had yet to figure out why. As he had many times in the past week, he lowered himself to the ground and leaned back against the tree. He closed his eyes, listening to the occasional bird and the chirping of the insects in the grass.

He never heard the man approach, but he sensed him nonetheless. Slowly, he opened his eyes. An old man stood staring down at him.

"You won't find her, you know."

Mulder jumped up, coming face to face with the man, his eyes wild. "How do you know?" he demanded.

The man was completely calm, undisturbed by Mulder's reaction to his words. "She is in a place that no one can reach from here. If she was lucky enough to have survived the journey; not many do."

"What the hell are you talking about? Who are you?"

"I work here. Have for years. I've seen it happen before."

"You've seen what happen?" Mulder was getting desperate. He leaned into the smaller man, hoping his size and anger would intimidate him.

It didn't. "The Time Surge."

"The what?"

"Time Surge. At least that's what my father called it. He worked here before me. He saw it happen a few times as well."

Mulder took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts together in the wake of this man's confusing words. "Where is she?" He lowered his voice, angry now.

The man seemed to finally understand the dangerous position he was in. "You mean 'when' is she, don't you?"

Mulder stepped back, startled into silence.

"I'm not sure when, every surge is different. They only happen during very powerful storms, and only in this group of trees. I know of only one person who returned, and he has since died, but he ended up in the 1700's." His craggy face lit up with a huge grin. "He said he had nearly been scalped by Indians!"

Mulder's mind was racing. "Are you trying to tell me that my partner has gone back in time?" He didn't know why he had a hard time believing this, as he himself had done something similar last year. He watched as the old man nodded, the grin still on his face. "Why are you just now telling me

this?"

"I don't tell everybody what I know," he said. "I'd end up in the loony bin. But you seemed so sad. I've seen you here every day since she was taken. I kept my fingers crossed that you would believe me." He looked down. "Only, Bradley said it wasn't really like 'history'. He met people he knew in this time while he was there. People that he felt couldn't really have existed back then."

Mulder nodded. That had been what had happened to him. Skinner, Cancer Man, Spender, Kersh and of course Scully, had all been there in his 'surge'. But in order to get home, he simply had to leave the ship he had been on. This 'surge', this alternate universe portal, must have a different source of power. "You said your friend made it back alive. How?"

"It was quite simple, actually. He simply had to want to come home."

Mulder stared at him for a while, then he started laughing. "Oh, I see! So, all Scully has to do is click her heels together and say 'There's no place like home'?"

The old man shook his head. "Nothing so silly. She just has to convey to whoever is in control that she wants to come home."

"And who exactly is in control?" Mulder was finding it hard to get his breath back.

The old man didn't say a word, he just smiled and pointed skyward.

To Mulder, this was a gesture usually reserved for pointing out aliens, but he had a feeling that wasn't what the man was talking about. Mulder looked up, past the swaying branches of the trees, to the blue sky above. And he prayed to a god he wasn't sure he believed in to bring Scully back to him...alive.

************************************************************

"Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees." Stonewall Jackson's dying words-May 1863

*****

August 26, 1862

Anderson Farm

Near Manassas Junction, Virginia

On August 25th, General Lee split his army, sending General Jackson north while he and General Longstreet remained camped on the Rappahannock River. Lee had hoped that Pope, who was watching him, would follow Jackson. But Pope, who was never considered to be the most intelligent of men, ignored Jackson, not seeing him as a threat, and kept his full attention on Longstreet. That was his first mistake.

Jackson and his men arrived at Manassas Plain, just seven miles from the Junction, on August 26. He sent J.E.B. Stuart, his commander of cavalry, to capture the Junction. Stuart succeeded.

Scully was completely unaware of the drama unfolding so close by. She was too busy trying to find a way home. Maddie continued to treat her as a guest, never questioning how long she planned to stay. Scully assumed that Maddie believed she was too frightened to try and travel back to Washington with both armies so near. Scully let her believe this. During the day, she helped Maddie with the chores. In early evening, before the sun set, Scully took long walks around the area, trying to find where she had last KNOWN she was in 1999. There had to be a way back. But she had found nothing. And twice now, at night, she had helped Maddie, Jonah and Alfred as they fed and re-supplied runaway slaves who were on their way farther north. They had to reach Canada to reach freedom. The Fugitive Slave Law did not allow safety even in free states. If caught, they must be returned south. Scully knew President Lincoln would get rid of that law with the passing of the Emancipation Proclamation, but that wouldn't pass until January 1863, several months from now.

General Rollins had only stayed for a day recovering from his shoulder wound, then he had ridden out to rejoin Pope's men. During his stay, he had told Scully the papers that Stanton had taken had been orders from Wade to Pope about the assault on Richmond. Rollins himself hadn't been sure what exactly they had contained, only that Wade did not want anyone but Pope to see them. Scully had asked him why Pope was taking orders from Wade when Pope was supposedly in charge of the Union Army. Rollins shook his head sadly and

said, "Lincoln can't find any General who isn't afraid of Wade except for McClellan, who Lincoln does not get along with. And Lincoln WILL NOT put Wade in charge; he's too smart for that."

"Why is everyone so afraid of Wade?"

"He's a powerful man with a lot of money and a lot of influence in Washington. But not everyone is afraid of him. Lee isn't. And neither is Stanton."

When Scully asked about Stanton, trying to be casual about it, he said only that the Colonel had once been a student of his at West Point. His best student. "If Lee, Stuart and Stanton had all stayed with the Union, this war would be over," he said. "Lincoln has got to find a General willing to fight."

"What about you?"

Rollins laughed, but there was no humor in it. "My dear, I think you overestimate my position in the chain of command. There are many generals, but only a few are really born to lead whole armies. Though there is a general out west that might manage to lead these men to victory."

Scully tensed. "Who?"

"A man named Grant."

Scully resisted the urge to smile. Rollins knew his stuff after all. Every American worth their salt in her time knew Grant would indeed be the general who would fight Lee with persistence and win this war.

Rollins had ridden out the next day, his arm strapped loosely in a sling. Scully was sorry to see him go and wondered if he would survive the war.

On the afternoon of the 26th, Scully caught her first sight of Confederate troops. A large force of mounted soldiers could be seen in the distance, kicking up dust as they moved. A neighbor boy arrived about an hour later with news that Stuart had captured Manassas Junction with his cavalry. Stuart and his cavalry were already legends. They literally ran circles around their enemies, proving that they not only knew the lay of the land far better, but that they were far better horsemen as well.

Scully found herself constantly looking in the direction of the Junction, knowing that Stanton was most likely back with the rest of the cavalry, back with his commander, Stuart. She shook her head ruefully at one point. Who would have thought that she, who had always been a supporter of human rights, would find herself attracted to a Confederate soldier? Even in 1999, many people considered the Confederate flag a symbol of slavery and its horrors.

But then again, who would have thought Mulder, who was probably even more against racism than she herself was, would appear as a Confederate soldier? Scully had to remind herself that most of the southern soldiers that fought had never owned a slave in their life. They were fighting because they believed in the principle of 'state’s rights'. Later, when Lincoln finally freed the slaves, these same soldiers would continue fighting simply because their 'homeland' was being invaded. In a way, they truly believed THEY were fighting for freedom.

Later that night, Scully found herself lying in bed listening carefully to the night sounds. Maddie wasn't expecting any 'visitors' tonight, but with the Confederate army so close by, Scully was nervous. She had grown up believing the Confederacy was the enemy; the wrong side. She feared them. Or was it something, or someone, different that she feared?

She dozed for a bit, then woke suddenly. There were horsemen outside. She jumped out of the bed and pulled on a thin dressing gown over her long nightgown. Barefoot, she exited the room and moved quietly down the stairs. Maddie was already in the parlor, looking cautiously out the front window. Jonah and Alfred, who shared a cabin with Jonah's aged father on the far side of the barn, stood on the porch, rifles in hand, ready to guard their mistress with their life. About thirty horsemen stood in the yard, some carrying torches to light their way, all of them in gray.

"Well, well. Looks like we have some loyal niggers protecting their home," a man near the front called out. "Where are your owners, boy?" he asked Alfred.

"We own ourselves," Alfred replied, his chin raised.

"Oh, really?" the man continued sarcastically. "Well, we could change that. We need a couple more hands on that latrine detail, don't we, Sergeant?" He looked at the man behind him.

Maddie had had enough. She rushed out of the house, Scully close on her heels. "I will not let you make slaves of free men!" she demanded as she got to the porch.

Alfred immediately moved to put himself between her and the bad-tempered soldier. "Now, Missus. You get back inside. Let me and Jonah take care of this."

"I will not!" Maddie argued. "I've heard them do this elsewhere. Take free men and force them to work." She directed her gaze past Alfred to the man. "It's men like you that make me ashamed to be a Virginian!"

Scully had to agree. All the bad things she had ever imagined about the southern soldier were exhibited in this man. Her fingers twitched; she wished she had her weapon. But it, along with her cell-phone, had disappeared when she entered this world.

"Why you little..." Scully was sure the soldier would have continued, but a commanding voice from the other side of the yard stopped him in mid-sentence.

"Mitchell!"

The men, who until now had been silent, began to murmur among themselves. Two horsemen rode through the group and stopped next to the man named Mitchell. One was unfamiliar. He wore the rank of Major General. Like most of his men, he had a full beard and mustache, his hair slightly long in the back, his hat pulled low on his head. Scully took a guess that this was James Ewell Brown 'Jeb' Stuart.

The man next to him was familiar. Stanton.

"Mitchell, I know you're tired and hungry. We all are. But that is no reason to treat a respected member of this community with contempt." His voice was hard, and it was obvious Mitchell wasn't about to argue with his commander. Stuart turned to Maddie and Scully. "Ladies. We apologize for our late visit, but we are in need of all the supplies you can give us." He said it politely, but Scully knew that it was not a request. He and his men would take what they needed, leaving little for Maddie and her neighbors.

Stuart turned to the men, and with a sigh, nodded. The men immediately dismounted and began to swarm around the farmyard. Stuart again turned to Maddie. "I am sorry, Mrs. Anderson." Then he turned his horse away from the house. "Stanton. Look after the men. Make sure no hot-head gets overzealous and burns the barn down."

Stanton gave him a snappy salute. "Yes, sir."

Stuart saluted more tiredly in reply, then rode away from the farm, several aides following.

Scully followed Stuart with her eyes, a chill snaking along her backbone. She looked at the tall man still on his horse in front of her. He was watching her, his eyes dark. She, Maddie and the others had just been left in the charge of one Colonel Stanton.

Scully didn't know whether to be grateful...or terrified.

*****

"If I had Stonewall Jackson at Gettysburg, I would have won that fight." Robert E. Lee

*****

August 27, 1862-Just after midnight

Anderson Farm

Near Manassas Junction

Scully stood on the porch of the house watching the activities around her in amazement. Here she was, standing in the middle of the state of Virginia, in the middle of the United States of America, watching men in tattered gray uniforms loot an occupied home. It was unthinkable. That something so sinister, so violating, could be happening to a resident of what many people considered the most free country in the world. And yet it was happening in front of her eyes.

Maddie had gone inside with the few soldiers that had entered there. Scully knew she would not be able to stop them from taking what they wanted, but she supposed Maddie would at least try. Once more, she found herself looking at

the man in charge.

"How can you do this?" she asked, her voice low. "They have so little already."

Stanton was silent for a while, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly. "Mrs. Hale. This isn't Washington. This is war."

"How did you know my name?"

"Oh, come now. Did you actually think I wouldn't ask around about you after our previous meeting? I'm sure you asked around about me." Scully felt her face heat and was thankful for the darkness, lit only by the burning torches, which cast an orange glow. Stanton continued. "You are a mystery, Mrs. Hale. It was hard to find someone who knew anything about you. Alexander, who I dislike speaking with, was the only one who had caught your name. He was at Parker's the night you were there. The ladies think he looks dashing in

blue. If they only knew."

"This Alexander is a spy?" She wondered if she had met him that night.

Stanton nodded. "And a good one." He dismounted, and Scully instinctively wrapped her arms tighter around herself, suddenly aware that she was not quite dressed appropriately to greet strange men. Stanton looped the reins over the porch railing and slowly made his way up the steps. Scully felt her heart beat faster and cursed herself for it. What had happened to her? Suddenly, she had turned into a wimp around men. Or at least around this man.

"What's the matter, Mrs. Hale?" His voice was low, almost inaudible. He stopped in front of her. "You're trembling."

"I'm cold," Scully whispered. It had to be nearly 80 degrees and steaming on this late August night.

Stanton's eyes darted downward, toward her chest. "Yes. I can see that." He wore that irritating smirk again.

Scully glanced down and realized what he was staring at. Neither the dressing gown or the cotton nightgown she wore were very thick. With embarrassment, she wrapped her arms around herself tighter, not realizing that the movement made what Stanton was observing that much more obvious.

"Alexander never heard about Mr. Hale," Stanton continued. "So, tell me about him."

"He's dead," Scully said softly. "He died several years ago."

Stanton nodded, and lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry." Scully felt herself relax a bit. Surely this man was a gentleman. Surely he would leave her alone if she exhibited sorrow over her 'deceased' husband. But then his eyes came up and met hers again, and their intensity stunned her. "But life does go on, does it not?"

Maddie came out of the house, breaking whatever spell Stanton had been about to cast. He stepped away from her and faced Maddie. "I'm very sorry for this, Mrs. Anderson. Jackson's men are starving; their supplies ran out days ago."

"Jackson? He's here?"

Stanton nodded. "He'll be in Manassas by morning." He paused. "Melanie is with his troops. If it's any consolation, what we take here will help her as well as the soldiers she cares for."

Maddie's eyes had gone soft. "Thank you, Jason."

One of the soldiers that had gone into the house spoke to Stanton. "Sir, we left enough provisions to last these folks a few days." He looked at Maddie apologetically. "And it is almost harvest."

Stanton nodded. "Thank you, Hopley. Mount up and lead the men back to camp." The man nodded, then left the porch. All the others had mounted and they began to form up behind Hopley, leaving the farm undamaged, but not whole.

Three riders stayed behind; waiting for their Colonel, Scully presumed. Stanton had walked off the porch to where Jonah was standing and was talking quietly to the man. Jonah watched him with anger in his eyes, but respect as well. And whatever Stanton was saying to him made his expression relax. He nodded at something the Colonel said, then turned and headed back to the barn, Alfred at his heels.

Stanton stood watching him for a while.

"Colonel?"

Scully jumped at the voice, not because it startled her, but because she recognized it. She turned to look closer at the men waiting for Stanton. Her eyes widened in utter astonishment. She almost began giggling.

They were a ragged trio, these three men. One tall and dark, his beard as full as his commander's. Another tall and fair, with only slight fuzz on his chin. And the third, short and stocky, his face nearly hidden behind hair and his hat sitting at a jaunty angle.

The Lone Gunmen? On horses? She bit the inside of her cheek in an effort not to smile. The thought of Mulder riding a horse was astounding enough. That these three should be a part of Stuart's cavalry was...unthinkable!

Stanton had mounted again, and he touched the brim of his hat with his fingers. "Mrs. Anderson. Mrs. Hale." With only a subtle touch of his left spur to his horse's side, he made the big roan spin on its haunches and canter away, the other three following, looking amazingly adept in the saddle. Scully shook her head. Not a day went by when she wasn't shocked by something in this place.

"You seem to know him well," she said softly to Maddie.

"His father used to own the plantation down the road," Maddie said quietly. "He and Todd went to West Point together."

"Plantation?" Scully asked. "Do they own slaves?"

"His father did, yes. But when the old codger died, Jason freed them. Jonah and his father included." She sighed. "Caleb, Jonah's father, helped to raise Jason and his sister. Jonah has never forgiven him for leaving the army and joining the Confederacy."

"Why did he?"

Maddie was silent for a while. "Because he's a Virginian. Virginia is his home. And he would not fight against her." She sighed. "General Lee is the same way. Men with too much pride. Too much heritage. Fighting a war they hate for a cause they don't believe in." She turned to face Scully. "Did you know that President Lincoln offered command of ALL the Federal troops to Lee the day Virginia seceded? He turned Lincoln down. He refused to fight 'his

country'." She shook her head sadly. "It has gone on for too long, this war. Too long." She turned and walked into the house.

Scully looked out into the night, depression hitting her in the gut. The American Civil War had begun in April of 1861, almost a year and a half ago. It would not end until April of 1865. So far away. So far. "Oh, Maddie. You're not even halfway there, yet," she whispered. The worst battles were yet to be fought. Antietam, which was less than a month away. Chancellorsville. Chickamauga. Wilderness. The fall of Atlanta. Of Richmond. Sherman's 'March to the Sea', which would devastate Georgia. And Gettysburg, one of the greatest battles ever to be fought. There was so much more to come.

'How did we do it?' she asked herself. 'How did we survive to become the country we are in 1999? Or is it because of this war that we are the way we are in 1999?'

************************************************************

"It was all my fault; get together, and let us do the best we can toward saving which is left us." Lee to Longstreet after the failed Pickett's Charge at Gettysburg-July 1863

*****

August 28, 1862

Manassas Junction, Virginia

Pope finally got a clue.

Realizing what was going on behind him, he quickly moved his men toward Manassas Junction. He hoped to surround the Confederates, not really realizing the whole movement was basically a trap. Lee and Longstreet set out to follow and join Jackson.

When Pope arrived at the Junction, it was to find...nothing.

The farms in close vicinity had been looted, and the supplies at the Junction itself were either gone or destroyed. There were no signs of Jackson. Where were they?

Unbeknownst to Pope, the Confederates had moved just a few miles north, almost on the exact spot where the first Battle of Bull Run had taken place. Almost on the Anderson Farm.

Scully and Maddie stayed inside, trying as best they could to ignore the army outside their front door. Maddie remembered the first battle that had been fought here, a little more than a year ago. It was what had gotten her daughter Melanie interested in nursing. She recalled how the Federals had been so confident. Rich businessmen and politicians from Washington had even driven out in their carriages to watch their men 'womp the rebels'.

By days end, the Federals were running as fast as they could for Washington and safety, as were the spectators. The first major battle had been a tremendous Southern victory, and everybody began to realize this would be no two-month war.

Around noon, a group of riders appeared in front of the house, one of which was a woman. Scully felt her heart leap when she recognized her and had to hold herself back as Maddie rushed out of the house and into her daughter’s arms. Melissa. She should have known. Scully looked at the men who had accompanied her. Her smile grew bigger. They looked even sillier in the daylight.

"Ma'am," 'Byers' said, nodding to her and touching the brim of his hat. "The Colonel sends his regards."

"Oh, he does, does he?" Scully asked, still smiling.

Melissa/Melanie turned toward her. "So, you are the woman who has Jason all wound up." She stepped up the stairs to shake Scully's hand. "Melanie Collins."

"Collins?" Maddie hadn't mentioned a son-in-law.

"Collins?!" Maddie exclaimed from behind them.

Melanie blushed and turned to her mother. "I'm sorry, Mother. It was kind of hurried. He's a doctor with Jackson's troops. You met him last year, remember?"

Maddie stood with her mouth agape for a moment. "When? And why the rush?"

"Two weeks ago and..." Her blush deepened.

"Oh, Melanie." Maddie's voice sounded disappointed, but was still full of love. "When?"

"Mid January, we think."

Maddie's mouth was in a tight line. "Do you love him?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, I love him."

Her mother nodded. "Well, then." She turned to face Melanie's three escorts. "Congratulate me. I'm going to be a grandmother. Again."

"Again?" This time it was Melanie's turn to be surprised.

"Yes. Todd wrote me last month that he married a girl in Charleston several months ago. Strangely enough, they too had a child quite soon after their marriage. A boy. His name is Justin." She shook her head. "I guess even in war, we still manage to find happiness."

Scully had stood silent listening to this exchange, but then her eyes caught sight of a dust cloud coming closer. "Maddie."

The three horsemen and the three women all turned to watch the approaching rider. Alfred and Jonah, who had been walking toward the house from the barn stopped in the middle of the yard. "It's Jason," Jonah said.

Sure enough, Stanton was riding in what Scully would term a 'hell-bent for leather' fashion toward the house. He thundered up to his men, his big roan lathered with sweat and foaming at the mouth. "Bowers," he shouted before he even brought his horse to a stop. "Take Fraiser and Larson and get back to Stuart. I'll see Mrs. Collins back to the medical tent."

"What's wrong, Colonel?" Frohike/Fraiser asked.

"Pope has reached Manassas Junction. He hasn't figured out where we are, yet. But he'll find us soon." The three men spurred their horses away.

"Jonah!"

The big man ran up to Stanton. "Yes, sir?"

"Do you have enough ammunition?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then get your father, and you and Alfred stay in the house with the women. I don't think the fighting will move this way, but we can't take any chances. If you ever feel in danger at all, get them to my house. You know where the

cellar is if the artillery gets too close."

"Jason," Maddie interrupted. "We've been through this before. We know what to do."

"I just want to make sure you're safe." He was looking at Scully as he said it.

Melanie gave her mother a quick hug, then mounted her own horse, tucking her skirts around her legs to keep them covered. She glanced at Stanton. "This is going to be bad, isn't it?"

He nodded, his jaw hard.

"What do you mean, 'bad'?" Scully asked. Suddenly, she didn't want to just sit and wait for something to happen. "Let me help. I'm a doct- I've trained under doctors." Melanie and Maddie were staring at her.

Stanton was glaring at her. "Absolutely not!"

"What! You'll let a pregnant woman go, but not me?!"

"Melanie is used to it. You are not. You couldn't handle it!"

Scully felt rage pour through her. And it felt good. "How dare you! You don't know anything about me! None of you do!" She glanced at Maddie as she spoke. "This," she gestured to her clothing, "is not me! Sitting around doing nothing is not me! None of you know the real me!" She stopped, breathing hard.

Stanton was wearing that smirk again.

"Jason," Maddie said quietly. "She did patch up General Rollins quite well."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks for that, by the way," Scully snapped sarcastically. "I needed the practice."

"If Pope had gotten hold of those papers, this battle would have happened days ago, when our men were tired and hungry. Wade was warning Pope to not ignore Jackson." He shook his head. "I won't apologize for shooting Rollins."

Scully stood staring at him. "Take me with you."

He sighed. "Maddie?"

"I'll be fine." She looked at Jonah and Alfred. "WE'LL be fine."

Another sigh. Then he moved.

Scully was more than a little surprised when he backed his horse up to the side of the porch steps and held out his hand to her. "Get on."

She glanced one last time at Maddie, then walked up to him, grasping his left arm with her left hand. She swung up behind him on the horse, trying to emulate Melanie and tuck her skirts around her legs. She didn't quite succeed, and her calves remained bared except for the stockings she wore. 'Scandalous,' she thought jokingly to herself. Stanton must have known what she was thinking, because he laughed softly.

"Hang on, Mrs. Hale. From here on out, there's no slowing down."

The horse jerked forward. She quickly wrapped her arms around the man in front of her, trusting him to maintain control of the now speeding animal. Other than the occasional trail ride when she was little, Scully had never really ridden, and the power of the animal beneath her frightened her. But with that fear came excitement.

Very similar, she guessed, to the way she felt about the man in front of her.

************************************************************

End Part One

Part Two